Who’s That Knockin?

Primordial. Could there be pterodactyls?

As with most surprises in the woods, what I heard seemed out of context and grabbed my attention. Why would a roofing crew be working in the middle of a National Park? And, my first thought when they flew was, yikes, a family of pterodactyls!
I came to my senses and remembered I was not quite old enough to remember what pterodactyls really look like. So the noise, obviously, was the hammering of Pileated Woodpeckers.
I’ve seen countless Pileated Woodpeckers, yet, I’m always amazed at how large the bird is. And how colorful, even though it has only three colors, red, white and black. Seeing one is a treat. Sometimes you get lucky and see a pair. I was watching five! It appeared to be a family outing. A day to teach the kids how to make noise and get some eats in the process. True to form, the kids seemed more interested in what their siblings had found crawling under the bark of the huge oak than what their parents worked on. Mom and dad paid little attention; it was instruction time. You learn some life lessons or you get kicked out of the gene pool.
The hike would prove to be like any other day in the woods; that is to say, like no other day in the woods can be. As with never being able to step into the same stream twice, so it is with hiking even a familiar trail. I needed a hike so I set off on one of my favorite birding trails just to see what it was like in the depths of summer, a period considered the nadir of the birding season by some folks.
I hadn’t been in this section of the Cuyahoga Valley National Park since last spring. A productive wetlands spot, where in the spring the fallen logs are covered with birds, was now covered in green velvet. Plant life sprouted from where there had been only tree bark. A single female Common Yellowthroat probed in the bushes.
Higher up on the valley’s rim, a constant, albeit small, chorus of birds competed for my attention. Red-eye Vireos kept saying, “Look at me! Up here! Here I am!” The Eastern Wood-pewee called out his name, over and over.
I guess in terms of species count, the six-mile hike did not yield much. About a dozen species where active this morning. However, any time you can watch a flock of Wild Turkeys forage, or see an American Robin drink from a concave oak leaf on the trail, it’s hardly to be considered a “low point.” Fewer birds just means you can devote more of your resources and attention to the task at hand. It’s about education. Just like watching dad probe under the bark of a tree for something--anything.


What lies around the bend?